Ethan
by RosemarieCraig
Summary: House's childhood with his big brother Ethan. How did Greg become House? Abuse Warning
1. Chapter 1

The child's bright blue eyes were filling with tears. The little boy stood in front of a tall man, dressed in a long sleeved top and long jeans, despite the hot temperatures of the day. The night had brought relative coolness, but sweat trickled down his tiny face, mingling with the tears. His father held tightly to his arm, ensuring that the child did not run away. Another boy stood behind Greg's father, quivering. Ethan House held onto his father's leg, wishing he was brave enough to make him stop.

"You're too old to have stuffed toys. Don't be a little crying baby" the man said, brandishing a toy elephant at his five year old son. They stood in the garden of a large house in the twilight of November 5th. They had gone outside an hour or so previously, John telling Blythe that they were going to light the bonfire. The fire was lit, roaring happily near them.

"Daddy, please can I have him back now?" the boy asked tentatively.

"Shut up" the man snapped and tiny Greg House flinched, whipping his head down to look at the floor. "Don't be so pathetic" the man gripped Greg's arm hard and shook him violently.

"Sorry Daddy, I'm sorry! I'll be good, I promise!"

"You're a bad kid, you'll never be able to be good"

"I'm trying" Greg whimpered as his father's grip tightened on his arm.

"You're not trying hard enough" he shouted, letting go of his son and thrusting him towards the fire. He didn't plan to hurt him.

"Daddy!" Greg screamed as his hand touched the fire. He yanked it away and blew on it, pain radiating from it, fighting a desperate desire to scream. It was only small, but it hurt.

"You are such a baby! Grow up and stop being so pathetic" his father showed him the elephant toy, almost giving it back. Greg reached for it, but his father leered and chucked it onto the fire.

"No!" Greg screamed, trying to reach his beloved toy. Ethan gasped.

"That'll teach you to tidy your room properly" his father whispered cruelly to a sobbing Greg. He grabbed us son by the arm and dragged him away from the fire consuming his childhood. "Everything you touch turns to shit, Gregory House. Don't you ever forget it."


	2. Chapter 2

Greg whispered to himself as he pulled toy cars around on the floor.

"Vroom, vroom and the yellow one wins!" he murmured. His brother Ethan was stretched out near him, listening to the radio and doing a crossword.

"Stop taking to yourself, baby brother, I'm trying to listen to this" Ethan said, not unkindly.

"Sorry Ethan" Ethan was a four years older than Greg, 12 years old. He was clever, his skills lying with words. He got As at AP English Literature.

"will you play with me?" Greg asked tentatively. He had the bruise on his chest from when he'd asked his father to play with him the night before.

"What are you playing?"

"Monster Trucks"

"But you only have a taxi and an ambulance"

"The ambulance is the monster truck"

"Right. I see. Okay, I'll play for a bit, just until Dad comes home" Ethan moved over to his little brother and ruffled his tight blonde curls as he sat down. Ethan had seen the way their father treated Greg differently from him. With Ethan, John was affectionate, hugging him often, buying him presents, reading to him. But with Greg he was distant, sometimes mean. And Ethan, just once, had seen his beloved father hit the child. He suspected that he didn't see everything. Ethan turned his face away from Greg, trying to focus on the game rather than what his brother might be going through.

"I'm home" John shouted jovially as he came in the door an hour or so later. The boys were still playing, the game had become a more elaborate 'monster trucks in space', driving the cars up the walls and curtains.

"Hello dear", Blythe shouted through to him, emerging from the kitchen, a small streak of flour on her cheek. The couple kissed and John affectionately wiped the flour away.

"Ethan, come give your dad a hug" Ethan jumped up from playing with Greg before his dad came into the room and ran to hug him. Ethan's dark hair matched his dad's almost exactly. Greg didn't look much like John or Ethan. He remained sat on the floor in the sitting room, afraid to get up in case he did something wrong. John came into the room, kissing Ethan on the head before letting him go.

"Good afternoon Gregory"

"Good afternoon father"

"Stand up when you're speaking to me"

"Sorry sir" Greg stood up.

"Stupid boy. Pick up your toys" John growled. Greg bent and picked up the cars. John snatched them from his small hand and held them up to his eyes. "I got these for Ethan, you little thief"

"No, I was only borrowing, I promise!" Greg's lip was trembling in fear

"Did you ask his permission?"

"No, but"

"No buts, Gregory. Come with me." he grabbed Greg's arm and pulled him up the stairs.

"Dad, it's okay, he wasn't stealing"

"I can deal with this, thank you Ethan. Get back to your crossword please"

"But Dad, I-"

"Ethan" John snapped warningly, griping Greg's arm tighter until he whimpered. Ethan bit his lip. His interference was making it worse. He sat down."Good boy. I'll be down soon, then maybe we'll go and get ice-cream. Ethan felt a little sick. How must this look to Greg, his big brother selling him out for ice cream? John yanked Greg's arm and they went up the stairs to his room. The boy was shaking in fear, his arm aching horribly. John shoved Greg into his bedroom, and the boy smashed into a chest of draws, banging his ribs on the sharp corner, almost immediately, blood seeped through his white t-shirt. Greg gasped and started to cry.

"How dare you cry? Be a man and suck it up"

"I'm sorry father" Greg begged, desperately hoping that his father would stop there. John slapped the boy and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him close to his face.

"If I ever catch you stealing again, I'll give you another ice bath. Understand?" Greg nodded quickly, fear sparking in his eyes. John pushed his son away and left the room, locking the door behind him. Greg began to sob silently. He didn't mean to be bad, it just happened. Maybe his father was right, maybe he was just a bad kid. His chest hurt. He pulled up his T-shirt to see the cut. It wasn't too bad, nothing he couldn't treat himself. He went over to the little box under his bed. It was full of his mother's out of date medical supplies. He wiped the blood off and put antibacterial gel on, wincing as it touched the open wound. He put a huge padded plaster over the cut and patted it on. Greg replaced the box under his bed and lay down. Silently he cried himself to sleep.

Ethan was worried about his baby brother. His dad came downstairs annoyed, a soft sheen of sweat covering his face.

"Come on then son, we'll go get ice cream now, how does that sound? Mint choc chip for you and strawberry for me."

"What about Greg?"

"Gregory's been naughty and he's going to bed early"

"But it's only half past four"

"Are you questioning my authority?" John's voice darkened.

"No, I just-"

"Well don't"

"Sorry Dad" Ethan looked up at Greg's bedroom window as they went out. Ethan could see him in bed. "Greg is coming to school tomorrow, right Dad?"

"Yes. He has extra math class"

"Oh yeah, his clever set"

"It's not exactly a great achievement when we compare it to you, taking AP English classes at 12"

"But..."

"But nothing"

"Sorry"

"Look, I know you're trying to help Gregory, but he doesn't need you. Just leave it alone and it will go away." Did he promise to stop? Ethan didn't ask, hoping that he did.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm sorry Mr. House, I had to call you. This is the third fight your son has been in this year. I know he's having a hard time adjusting back into the American schools, especially because he's a year ahead, but it is not acceptable for him to keep getting into fights... Yes I understand that, but he still has to... No Mr. House, I am not telling you how to raise Greg, but you must understand... Okay, sorry. You need to collect him within the next thirty minutes. I can't let him go home on his own... I can't just give him to Ethan. No... All right, we'll see you soon. Thank you"

"Is my father coming?" Greg asked the secretary quietly, his bruised face warping around the words. His lip was swollen, the skin around his eye almost black with red splotches of blood pooling under the skin.

"He'll be here soon. Listen," she came in front of her glass desk and knelt near Greg's chair. His feet scraped the floor, he didn't look directly in her eyes. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me about your father? I get the creeps when I talk to him, and you never smile. Why haven't I ever seen you smile, Greg?" she asked kindly, her beautiful dark face close to his. Greg looked away, refusing to answer or look at her. "I'm here for you" she reached out and touched his knee. He winced as she touched a bruise that had been left there from being pushed down the last few steps at home.

"Don't touch me" he growled, looking at her for the first time. She looked shocked and snatched her hand back like he had burned her. "Don't ever touch me"

"I'm sorry Greg. Please, tell me what's going on. It's not normal for a nine year old to be so angry, so sad. You shouldn't be getting into this many fights. I'm just trying to help"

"Yeah? Well don't. No one ever helps! No one can fix it!"

"Let me try, tell me what happens"

"No! I mean, there's nothing to tell. I'm fine" Greg stood up and walked across the room to the door. He looked terrified. He had said far, far too much. His father burst into he waiting room, dressed in his marines uniform complete with three silver medals.

"What the hell is going in here?" he yelled, grabbing Greg's shouter as he turned to face his father.

"N-nothing father"

"What have you done this time, you little idiot?"

"I- I hit a boy in the grade above me because he said mean things about Ethan"

"Then he beat you up because you are too weak and pathetic to fight a real fight"

"Listen, Mr. House. Do I need to call the authorities? Greg, do you want me to call someone to help you?" she bent down to Greg's eye level. His father's nails dug into his shoulder, warning him.

"I- no. I don't need help. Why would I need help? Tomorrow everything will be okay, and we'll go fishing like every Saturday" Greg hated lying to her. John House had never taken Greg fishing. Ethan maybe, but never Greg.

"If you're sure"

"I'm fine. Just leave me alone" Greg's voice broke slightly as his father yanked him out of the room. They walked in silence to the car. Ethan was leaning casually against the bonnet. He was almost as tall as their father, dark hair curling slightly around his ears, his hazel eyes shining with intelligence, his tanned face radiating happiness and echoing the outdoors. Greg couldn't help but be jealous of his big brother. He was paler, thinner, shorter. He was told every day that he wasn't as clever, as good looking as Ethan.

"Oh my God Greg, what happened to your face?" Ethan squatted to look at Greg's injury, pushing back his fringe to see how far the bruise in his eye extended. Ethan winced. How could a kid do this? There must have been a few of them.

"I'm fine"

"Greg..."

"Get in the car, Gregory. I don't want a scene. You too son" both boys got into the car, Greg climbing into the back seat, Ethan jumping into the front.

"Who was it?" Ethan asked, turning in his seat.

"No one"

"What, you punched yourself?" Ethan asked skeptically "Come on, who was it"

"Will, Sam, Preston and Henry"

"Are they bullying you?"

"No"

"Then why-"

"Gregory thinks they were saying derogatory things about you. If you ever, EVER make me have to come into school again you will regret it for the rest of your pathetic little life" John House snarled

"Greg, you didn't need to defend me" Ethan said in a kind, calm voice directly contrasting with their father's

"But they were being mean"

"It's okay, it's important that you don't get into trouble with people bigger than you"

"Will is smaller than me"

"But there were four of them"

"I didn't know that at the time" Greg looked away, out of the window and Ethan turned forward in his seat, switching on the radio. Greg lent his head against the cool glass and it soothed his face. It hadn't been as bad as the few real beatings he'd had at home, but it had hurt a lot. The four boys had kicked him onto the floor and kept going until a teacher realised what was going on. By then every inch of him was hurting.

The car swerved into their driveway and they got out. John grabbed Greg's arm and frogmarched him to the front door.

"If you ever, ever pull something like this again, I will triple any injuries you receive from little school boys" he whispered in Greg's ear, pressing on a pressure point that made his leg twitch uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry, father. I'll try not to do it again"

"Trying isn't good enough" he unlocked the door and dragged Greg inside "Go straight to your room. I'll come up later. Ethan, go and lock the door, will you"

"Dad, I don't like having him locked in there"

"Do as I say" he said, calmly "It'll be okay" John patted Ethan on the shoulder and the boys went upstairs. Ethan's room was large, with a huge window looking out over their garden. His floor was strewn with clothes, magazines and books. The walls were painted a light blue colour to match the carpet. They walked past the room in silence to the one at the end of the hallway. Greg's room was tiny, fitting his bed, a chest of draws and a box for his books. There was no carpet, the sheets were off white and there weren't any windows. It was a conversion from a cupboard. Ethan pulled his brother into a hug, stroking his hair.

"You'll be okay. Thank you for fighting for me"

"Thanks"

"You'll be fine. I'll see you soon. I'm going to have to lock the door"

"I know"

"Bye" Ethan kissed Greg on the head and stepped out of the tiny room. Greg heard the bolt slide in and felt immediately trapped. If there was just one window, everything would be better in there. If he could see the sky. As it was, all he could see when he lay down was the bare light bulb hanging from his ceiling. It wasn't fair. He was nine. He should be outside with the other kids, not locked up, waiting for his punishment.

It was almost three hours before John unlocked the door. The second the bolt slid out of the lock, Greg was standing up in a military stance.

"You are in serious trouble" he said, shutting the door behind him.

"I'm really sorry father"

"Not good enough. You won't be going to school until Monday. You know what day it is, right?"

"N-no"

"Stupid... It's Thursday. So you'll only miss one day, but you'll be here for three. If you want any food during that time, I suggest you start making this up to me"

"Yes father" Greg detested being polite, being obedient, offering to help someone he hated. But he didn't want to do another three day stint without food. Last time he'd managed four days before he just screamed until Ethan fed him. His stomach had felt like it would eat itself.

"You are going to clean this house out perfectly. I don't was to see any piles of paper or books, or a speck of dust anywhere. Clean the windows, walls, floors and all the surfaces. Tidy everything up. There are 18 rooms, not including this hole, which means you have to do 6 every day. If there are any rooms not complete by Sunday evening at 8, you not be allowed to go to school all next week and I will not feed you for that time. Well, what are you waiting for? Start with my bedroom. Now!" Greg ran downstairs to find the cleaning stuff. A week without food. A week locked in his cell like, airless bedroom. That would be hell. He pulled the bucket full of cleaning equipment across the landing and into his parents room at the end of the hall. It was already tidy, which was good. He started with the windows, scrubbing and wiping the coating of dust off them. More light came into the room, illuminating the layers of dust on every surface. Greg wandered if his father had been saving the dirt for him, waiting for him to slip up. Once he'd found the dirt, it took Greg almost two hours to get the room to an acceptable standard. He was red in the face and his nose was burning from the chemicals. John House stepped into the room behind him.

"It'll do. You can have a sandwich for dinner tonight, after we have finished. Get back to your room"

Greg went back to his room, stepping into the dim light of the bulb. His father stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Greg gulped. John House was three foot taller than his son, and 100 pounds heavier. John smacked the boy around the face, Greg's neck twisting to accommodate the force. The man hit Greg again and again until Greg fell with the force of a punch to his gut.

"You are weak and pathetic and a miserable excuse for a son. Take a leaf out of your brother's book and start acting like a person" John hissed at Greg. He turned and picked up the box of books, taking it out of the room. He locked the door. Great, Greg thought, now he wouldn't even have books to read. He had got to the tenth volume of Encyclopaedia Britannica. He was also reading his way through Dickens. It wasn't fair. He was too young to be so worried. His face, chest and stomach ached from the punishment.

He was allowed to go back to school on Monday, his bruises healed from the fight and from the punishment from his father on Thursday. His teachers didn't question the shadow of dark skin under his left eye, blaming it on over exuberant ten year olds. No one asked, which made it an easy secret to keep. For a while.


	4. Chapter 4

For his twelfth birthday, Ethan gave Greg an electric guitar. He had already shown a talent for music, learning the piano, trumpet, saxophone, and clarinet easily. He also had an angelic singing voice which would be spectacular when it matured. Greg loved the guitar, different from his other instruments, capable of creating strange new music. Ethan loved seeing Greg happy, even if it was only when they were alone. Ethan often took Greg to his girlfriend's house to hang around and play his guitar without disturbing their father. Ethan even wondered sometimes if he was only with his girlfriend to get Greg out of the house. He didn't really like her. One afternoon, when the three were in Hattie's sitting room, Greg suddenly asked

"Ethan, are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You're bleeding from your ear" Greg said, biting his lip in what had developed as a nervous habit. Ethan put his hand to his ear and felt the warm liquid trickling down the side of his neck. Hattie screamed and grabbed the phone to call an ambulance.

"It's okay"

"No its not!" Hattie and Greg shouted in unison. Hattie spoke to the hospital and told them her address. Before she had got off the phone, Ethan had begun to shake in a seizure. Greg tried to hold his head away from the furniture, like it said in his books. The sixteen year old was chocking on the froth spilling from his mouth. Hattie let out a dramatic, high pitched wail and shut herself in the bathroom. Greg sat with his brother until the ambulance came then rode in the back, holding his hand. Ethan was slipping in and out of consciousness, murmuring Greg's name over and over.

"Look after Greg" he mumbled "don't hurt him"

Ethan spiked a fever in the night. The little family were gathered around his bed and he slipped quietly away. Ethan House died the same day he displayed symptoms. No one even knew what was wrong.

Blythe, John and Greg were made to go home. They were told to collect their son, their brother, the next day.

"It was your fault" John stood in his youngest son's room, the boy lying sobbing and shaking on the floor.

"I tried to save him!"

"Well you didn't! You didn't save my son! You are a worthless little sh*t, Gregory! You are a cowardly, horrible murderer and you're lucky I don't report you to the police." John kicked his son hard in the back, making Greg arch his spine to minimise the blow. He couldn't stop crying. Ethan would never save him again. John didn't leave his son's room for half an hour, and even Blythe, ever oblivious, couldn't ignore Greg's screams. Eventually, the house went totally silent, and John House came downstairs to read his paper. There was blood across his right knuckle. Blythe cried.

Greg was not allowed out of his room for five days. He didn't get any food throughout the week. When John House finally opened the door, the first thing he saw was a small figure curled up near the bed, shivering.

"Stand up Gregory" he said, as though hiding concern under an order. The boy struggled to pull himself up on the bed. "I brought you a sandwich. It's chicken and bacon"

"T-thank you" Greg stammered. His hair was crusted with dried blood, his face covered in bruises and half healed cuts. The bruises extended down his front and back. At least one of his ribs was smashed up. John stepped towards him, his hand extended to give him the sandwich. Greg flinched away. John bit the inside of his lip. Maybe he had gone too far.

"Do you need a doctor?"

"N-no. I never, ever want to go back to a hospital"

"Are you seriously hurt?" John asked. Greg didn't answer, short of breath after his small speech. He ate the sandwich slowly, navigating around his swollen lip. "listen, you need to tell me if you need medical attention"

"P-please, leave me alone" Greg whispered. John left the room, with a glance back at his son. He didn't lock the door.

Greg at on his bed, wincing as he moved his body. It was his fault Ethan died. He was to blame, and his father's punishment was correct. It was the only logical thing that Greg could see.


	5. Chapter 5

It was almost six months before Greg went back to school. He went to a new one, with different teachers, no questions and no distrust. He was a teenager, able to cope with the loss of his brother. Able to cope with his father. Able to hide anything from teachers, students and anyone else he saw. At least, that's what he told himself. Inside, he was no different than the little boy who had cried at the loss of his toy elephant. On his first day, people came to talk to him. They had had an announcement in assembly the week before he arrived. They were told about Ethan, and they felt sorry for Greg. Greg himself ignored every single attempt to get him to speak. He talked only when answering questions in class for the entire school year, the rest of the time he spent reading and making notes from huge medical tomes he browsed the university library. He played six musical instruments to high levels, the piano and guitar to extremely high standards. He played sports; lacrosse, hockey, soccer. He ran two miles every day. He took martial arts classes. He worked a job. He never said a word.

Eventually, Blythe made him see a therapist.

"Now Greg. What can you tell me about your brother?"

"He died of cancer one year ago next week"

"How did that make you feel?"

"How did it make me feel? What the hell do you mean 'how did it make me feel'?" Greg shouted, his voice croaking from the strain of shouting after a years quiet.

"Sorry, I just meant, how are you doing" the therapist looked a little frightened of the thirteen year old.

"Oh I'm just peachy. In fact, I wish he'd died sooner so I could have felt like this for longer!"

"Okay Greg, I understand you feel frustrated but-"

"Frustrated? Me?" Greg asked innocently.

"It's time to stop punishing yourself for this"

"But- but it's my fault" Greg slumped in his brown leather chair.

"How can you possibly believe that?"

"My father tells me everyday"

"He Is Wrong" the therapist stressed every word leaning forward towards Greg. "Does your father hit you, Greg?"

"No"

"You've been to hospital a fair few times with injuries typical of being hit repeatedly by someone much bigger and stronger than you"

"Well, they're wrong. I play sports" Greg's armpits were stinging with nervous sweat, his hands shaking slightly.

"I know. But maybe your father gets carried away sometimes when he's blaming you for Ethan's death"

"He isn't even my real father" Greg blurted out. He gasped involuntarily, standing up and moving away from the man.

"What makes you say that?"

"He always preferred Ethan, loved him when he didn't love me. They looked the same, mirror images. I'm different. I'm smarter, musical, shorter, paler, my hair is thicker and curly and blonde when theirs is dark. I don't share anything with John House except a name." he ended up yelling the last line. Greg turned again in a frantic circle, raising his hands to his face although to protect himself from the facts he was spilling out. He grabbed one of the wooden dolls from the role play table and threw it at the wall, grunting swear words and curses.

"You feel like the man you are supposed to trust isn't who he says he is. This makes you angry"

"No kidding" Greg spat, panting

"You responded with physical actions, pacing, throwing. But your didn't lash out at me. Do you know what this shows me?"

"No"

"It shows me that you are a far kinder, more sensitive boy than anyone gives you credit for" he said, quietly. Greg sat down.

"I just dropped the biggest bombshell on you ever, and you're calling me kind and sensitive?"

"I think you have been told lies. That other people have taken advantage of your kindness and your trust. I think that the man who may not be your father has been abusing you since before your first broken bone when you were three. I think you are a sad, hurt little kid who needs someone to forgive him. Did I get that right, Greg?" Greg sobbed, pulling his knees up to his face, shaking with the truth. "It'll be okay"

"No. You got it wrong. My father has never hit me. Never. Forget everything I said. You got it wrong"

"It's okay, you don't have to cover up for him"

"there's nothing to cover up. I'm sad because my big brother died and it was my fault, not because my fake daddy's hitting me! Don't be an idiot." his walls were back up. There was nothing the therapist could do.

"I'm going to prescribe you anti-depressants"

"It's okay, I self medicate" Greg snarled, daring the man to challenge him. Then he turned and left the room. It was the only therapy session he had until he checked into Mayfield.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been five years since Ethan's death. Greg was 17, off to college. He was sitting on his bed in his tiny bedroom, wondering who Ethan would be if he hadn't killed him. Greg took out the sachet of white powder from his pocket, lined it up on a piece of paper and sniffed it in quickly. It made his head rush, a sudden freedom spreading through his veins. Self medication at it's height. Greg left his room and floated downstairs.

"You've taken drugs" came the straight, angry voice of John House

"So what?"

"Where did you get them?"

"A friend"

"You don't have friends"

"Want to bet?"

"You little-" John lunged towards his son, but Greg dodged him, laughing. Mistake. Of. The. Century. John swore and grabbed Greg by his hair, yanking a handful sharply, bringing the boy down onto the floor, yelping. John stamped on Greg's hand, making him yell out, still laughing. "Shut up! Before I make you" Greg didn't stop laughing until he passed out from the continuous assault on the side of his head.

It was twelve hours before Greg woke up groggily to see his red faced father leaning over him.

"Good Morning, father"

"You took drugs. Despite everything I told you and Ethan"

"I guess you didn't hit me hard enough. Yeah, I reckon that'll be it" Greg said

"Shut up. Why did you have to survive, a weak little no hoper like you, when your brother had so much potential, so much promise?"

"One day, I'll be a great doctor" Greg was almost pleading

"No you won't. You will never achieve anything worthwhile because you don't have the character even to stay off drugs for your entire adolescence"

"Ethan smoked weed. He still your perfect son?" Greg spat, sitting up. John House looked shocked. "And he stole money from you and Mom to pay for them. He cheated on tests. He knew you would only be happy if he got perfect scores. He wasn't capable at all. You didn't even know him. And you don't know me. Look who's the failure now"

John House stood up. Greg did the same. This time, Greg deflected the blow before it hit him. He punched his father in the stomach, turned and dashed out of the room, slamming the door on the winded man. He shoved the lock shut. "See what it's like, _Dad, _trapped in there_, _hurt and angry? Betrayed by someone who should never hit you. See what you've been doing to me all these years? See why Ethan used every last word begging you not to hurt me? See why your son's last breaths were spent hating you?"

"Open this door! Open it now!" John pushed his full weight against the door.

"Oh no, it looks like Mom doesn't get back until Friday. Do you know what day it is?"Greg mocked "Wednesday. Thats two full days you'll have to stay there. I'm not going to give you any food. You can see how it feels to sit there for hours upon hours, your stomach gurgling, your mind wandering to what I will do."

"Brave behind a locked door, Gregory. You just wait until I get out of here, I will beat you until there is not a clear spot on your entire body. And if it leaves me with a life long prison sentence and two dead kids, I'll take it!" John roared through the locked door. Greg bit his lip, unsure how serious his father was. Then he turned away and went down the stairs. He had a free run of the whole house, a privilege he had never had. He grabbed a can of coke and a bag of chips and sat down to watch the television. He stretched out on the couch, resting his sore head on the arm. Maybe his father wouldn't hit him so much after a short burst of empathy. Greg massaged his bruised arm and thought. In a few years, he would be an awesome doctor. He would work really hard and be as good as himself and Ethan combined. That way, he would succeed, live for both of them. Then he wouldn't just be Greg. He'd be House.


End file.
